


They're Just Kids Stomping in Soldier's Shoes

by Iemon_tree



Series: currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ...im so sorry for this, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Sad Ending, This is just pure angst, i have a lot of feelings from monday, i have some fluff in the making dw, i have zero words, no happy ending, this is just pure hurt.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iemon_tree/pseuds/Iemon_tree
Summary: They're just children, and it's difficult to remember such an important detail.
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, no. - Relationship
Series: currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007283
Comments: 5
Kudos: 148





	They're Just Kids Stomping in Soldier's Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> this is short and bitter ngl. like. this shit hurted me to write. i just have a lot of thoughts and all my faves happen to be traumatized teenagers fighting in wars while adults do little to nothing about it,,,
> 
> this is the first draft, and just a blurb of thoughts that i had during the stream on monday :')
> 
> enjoy??? i guess??

It’s easy to forget how old they are. It’s easy to forget they’re just kids. 

Though, it’s just as easy to remember how  _ young _ they are. It hits him in the chest like an arrow. They’re  _ children _ . They should be exploring the world, laughing and cheering and picking flowers. Not screaming and sobbing and gasping awake from nightmares. Not clinging to him or each other after a particularly bad night. Not brushing off wounds with a simple, “ _ I’ve had worse. _ ”

It makes him angry, a fury that burns his lungs and brings tears to his eyes. 

It makes him guilty, regret swelling up and choking him. 

It makes him sad, grieving for their innocence and youth. 

He watches them, the night before the Election. He hears murmured worries, quiet sobs, honey-sweet promises, sickly lies spilling from uneasy lips. He listens to the tune of Mellohi, draping his jacket over the boys after they’ve fallen asleep, relying on the other for warmth and comfort. 

He watches them at their first meeting, after the shit-show of an Election. His sanity is clinging to him by a thread, and yet he says nothing as the two collide in a tight embrace. He doesn’t listen to the muffled sobs. He doesn’t listen to the murmured words of comfort, the anxious chatter. He watches them, feeling like a guardian angel teetering on the edge of falling from Heaven’s light. 

He watches them the during the Festival. Whispered assurances, doubtful glances, tear filled eyes staring down a firework-filled crossbow. Blood spattering in a yellow box, anguished wails echoing in his ears. The scent of gunpowder. He doesn’t hear Tommy begging for Tubbo to wake up, to open his eyes, to stay alive.

He drops poisoned words into Tommy’s ears. Tubbo is begging for them to stop, telling Tommy it isn’t worth fighting over. He pretends to not hear the stifled, pained noises from his baby brother. He pretends not to hear sobs echoing in the ravine. 

He watches them the night before the War between Manburg and Pogtopia. A deal has been created and agreed upon. He watches them lean against one another. He listens to their quiet words, and wonders,  _ when did they get so mature? _

Children stomping around in soldier’s shoes. That’s all they are. A pair of children playing dress-up. That’s all they’ll ever be, even as Tommy aims his crossbow at Schlatt. Even as Tubbo takes the Presidency with stride. 

_ They’re children _ , Wilbur thinks, gazing across the ruins of L’Manburg. His L’Manburg. No, not his. It never was his to begin with. 

_ They’re children _ , Wilbur thinks, staring at two bodies draped with cloth. Niki is sobbing. 

_ They’re children _ , Wilbur thinks, watching the bodies being lowered into the ground. They’re put to rest in  _ their _ field. 

_ They’re children _ , Wilbur thinks, tears streaming down his cheeks, his chest feeling awfully empty. 

_ They’re children _ , Wilbur thinks.

They’re just kids stomping around in soldier’s shoes. 

_ “No matter what, Tubbo, it’s you and me. _ ”

“ _ Promise? _ ”

“ _ Promise. _ ”

Two boys chase each other in a far-away field, ignoring the flowers that move through their transparent bodies. They laugh and cheer and are at peace. The weight of their world has permanently left their shoulders. 

As it turns out, the only way to attain freedom is through death.

**Author's Note:**

> like i said: big ouchie. dont worry im planning some fluff (and continuation of the other two fics in this series)
> 
> but like,,, this is all for fun. i don't plan on having a consistent schedule, im just going with whatever my brain wants to write LMAO
> 
> anyway drink some water yall i know its 1am for me rn


End file.
